


When You're a Newsie

by MadamKREMsin



Series: Finch [3]
Category: Newsies - All Media Types, Newsies!: the Musical - Fierstein/Menken
Genre: Canon Era, Crossdressing, F/M, Finch also being mildly protective but not in a bad way, Finch being a cutie, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Gen, Like he teaches the reader to protect themselves and shit, Mutual Pining, Post-Canon, Slow Burn, mild violence, oblivious lovebirds, possible future angst
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-23
Updated: 2019-01-23
Packaged: 2019-10-15 03:46:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,674
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17521388
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MadamKREMsin/pseuds/MadamKREMsin
Summary: A fic just about the reader being a Newsie, featuring banter and a bigger plot. Basically I just really want to be a Newsie right now and be friends with everyone so I wrote about it. It starts out with the reader deciding on her selling partner.Let's be honest though this is most definitely gonna turn into a Finch/Reader fic though because I'm trash.Also yes the title is an Addams Family reference.~Sin





	When You're a Newsie

“Up and at ‘ems!” Race groaned with annoyance as you loudly stomped around the metal construction the newsies had taken up as their home. Since you’d arrived, they gladly took you in. They had bickered endlessly about who you’d spend the night with, and finally settled on having you rotate between a different newsie each night. Last night you had been with Race, and he’d kept you up with silly quips and poorly stifled laughter until it was late. Unfortunately, you both still had to wake early to get the headline, so you decided to inflict revenge on Race and make him suffer the same fate as you.

“We’ve gotta get ready, Jack’ll be here soon.” You grinned at him, secretly pleased with the sight of him rubbing his eyes and scrunching up his face. It always bought you a small amount of satisfaction to see people when they were vulnerable, and this moment was no exception.

“Anotha five minutes.” Race grumbled before promptly toppling back over.

Your lips twitched into a smile. “Fine, but I’ll be back soon.” He made a brief sound of comprehension before falling unconscious once more.

You moved from newsie to newsie, trading quips with those who were up, and giving a little shove to those who weren't it. Talking with Romeo was always interesting, he seemed determined to make every conversation into a flirting match.

“Morning dear!” You called to him and blew him a kiss, beating him to it.

“Right in my heart! I think it might’a stopped. Care to give it a little jolt?” He waggled his eyebrows at you.

“Maybe later!” You loosed a laugh and let him return to getting ready. 

Most of the newsies didn’t own very much, not even another set of clothing. You were no exception to this. Some of the older boys kept a razor and a bit of shaving cream though. Apparently it sold more papes if they looked youthful. You were sure you looked like quite a wreck right now, hair thrown up into the messiest bun possible, dirt likely covering most of your skin. It wasn’t cute, but you were glad the boys didn’t seem to mind. After all, you were one of them now- a newsie. 

Albert was next, and he was very enthusiastic telling you about his latest food related dream. You made it your resolve to one day buy him a proper meal to pay him back for all of his kindness. Soon after you talked with Specs, taking a moment to stop and clean your glasses together. You bonded over how lucky the other newsies were to not have to worry about instantly losing their vision if they took a bad tumble. Not that you would let anything stop either of you if it ever came to fighting for your friends. 

Beneath all their sunny exteriors, most of the newsies still were littered with bruises from your first day on the job. You really owed so much to them, and were so lucky and grateful for every moment.

You quickly worked your way through the rest of the newsies, until there was only one (other than Jack and Crutchie) left. You couldn’t help but add a little extra bounce to your step as you headed for the area your best friend, if you could call him that, was. No matter which newsie you spent the night with, you always came back to him when it was time to get ready. He had instantly taken you under his wing as his selling partner the moment he set his eyes on you. You loved each of your new friends dearly, but held a special fondness with this one in particular. 

Slowly, you crept around the corner, meaning to catch him by surprise-only to be surprised yourself. There, a few feet before you, was Finch. That was normal, but what caught you off guard was how still and peaceful he looked. His normally jittery hands were completely stilled, and a relaxed grin was gracing his lips. He looked tired, but happy. In awe of the creature that had claimed Finch’s outstretched finger for its own. There, sitting and happily chirping away, was his namesake. The small bird so colorful, beautiful in a strange way against the dull gray backdrop of New York.

You stayed there, drinking in the moment. Normally Finch was the one to try to pick a fight with anything that moved, unable to stay still for more than a second. 

Oh no.

You felt a curious feeling creeping up on you. Not now, not in this moment.

So close, you got so close to repressing it and ignoring it.

You sneezed, the sound echoing off the metal floor and poles supporting it.

Finch jumped, his eyes wide with surprise, the bird fluttering off in a panic.

“I-I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to stare but I didn’t want to interrupt you and I didn’t mean to sneeze.” You were wringing your hands. So much for your confidence, around Finch you became such an awkward mess. 

Once he recognized you, his relaxed, his cocky grin making it’s normal return. “Don’t be sorry,” he teased you. 

You hummed in response before scrounging around in your news bag for your meager possessions. You found what you were looking for and pulled it out. In the past, if someone told you that your life would be like this you would have been mortified at the current situation, but now it was so normal and mundane.

“Need help again?” Finch asked you.

“Yeah, I’m getting better, but I don’t want to mess up.” You sorted out the bandages until they made more sense, and casually began unbuttoning your vest, shortly followed by your shirt. See, the thing was, girls weren’t supposed to work. But what else did they expect you to do? Starve? 

The first day you tried to buy papers from Weasle, you had put was much time and effort into dressing like a boy as you could. After a lifetime of padded bras and skirts, it was more of a challenge than you would think.. You had spent at least an hour on bandaging your breasts, until it was so tight it hurt. On the bright side, neither of the Delancey brothers realized you were a girl. On the downside, they wanted to teach a lesson to the skinny, youthful looking boy who whispered as he bought his papes. 

Finch had seen what was going to happen before you did and instantly soaked Oscar good in the side, while Albert hauled you back from the fray. Race simply watched the quick action, his cigar wiggling in his mouth. Within seconds it was over, but the swiftness and the fear and the sudden movements left you dizzy. Your ribs were aching and you could barely breathe. So, you had fainted on your first day as a newsie. When they took you back to their “home”, Finch had been the one who managed to wheedle your story out of you. Flushing from embarrassment, you had lifted your shirt to reveal the bandages. Finch given you this exasperated look for putting yourself in harms way. According to him, you could have easily bruised your ribs or killed yourself if you had kept them on for much longer. 

It had been way too easy for you to trust Finch. While he was a bit angry, he didn’t seem to have a bad bone in his body. He was so confusing though. Hot and cold and angry and calm, loving and distant. He was everything and nothing, and you loved it and hated it. The two of you worked well some days, and others everything fell apart in minutes. Well,  _ you  _ fell apart in minutes, unable to keep up with his constant quips and energy. Despite this, you would never stop trying. In any case, you never felt any fear towards him, so it was a simple choice when he offered to show you how to bind your chest properly. How or why he knew how, you wouldn’t ask.

It had been a little over two weeks now since that night, and you had gotten much better at binding, but it never hurt to have him check it out. Once you finished as best as you could, you signaled Finch that it was okay to come over now. His elegant fingers ran over your back, fixing your handiwork, every once in a while gently brushing against your skin in the process. You felt intimate and safe with Finch in these moments, in a way you had never felt with anyone before. While he worked, he explained what you had messed up on. He didn’t scold you though, and even praised what you had done better today. 

“All done.” He said once he had finished. You quickly shrugged your shirt back on and buttoned it up before giving him a quick hug.

“Thank you!” You were beaming at Finch, and he ruffled your hair before turning back to his own routine.  

“So, how was it spending the night with Race?” He grinned at you.

“I never knew somebody could talk so much so late at night.” 

“That’s Race for ya, I had to bunk with him when I first came here. I swear I didn’t sleep for a week.” 

You groaned, rubbing your eyes. “I’m so tired.”

“Guess that means you won’t be choosing him for your selling partner?” Finch was combing out his hair with his fingers, though it wasn’t much use trying to tame the unruly mess it always was.

“Love him, but definitely not.” 

Soon enough, the two of you were ready to go. It was just in time as well, as you could hear Jack thumping up the stairs, with the clang of Crutchie’s crutch following that lead.

“Ready for some stale bread?” Finch asked while fixing his cap on his head.

“Better than nothing.” You smiled grimly, taking his hand while striding through to meet the other fellas.

**Author's Note:**

> Just a quick note saying that I know bandaging yourself for binding is like the worst idea ever, but they didn't have binders back in 1899 and I really wanted a crossdressing reader, so we're gonna pretend it won't kill her. Just a PSA though, if you're going to bind, use a binder or you could literally break your ribs.


End file.
